


Needs of the Few

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Anal Sex, BDSM, Desperation, Dom/sub, Impact Play, M/M, Punishment, Science Fiction, Self-Lubrication, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://luckyjak.tumblr.com/">luckyjak</a> requested <a href="http://luckyjak.tumblr.com/post/50381203366/fic-prompt-for-anyone-who-wants-it">a Star Wars AU, where Blaine is a Force sensitive sex slave and Kurt is a chaste Jedi who rescues him</a>.  </p>
<p>D/S relationship with some BDSM elements (whipping), all consensual.  Set during the Old Republic tune, not the original trilogy era.  This was so much fun to write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needs of the Few

"I can't thank you enough," is the first thing that Blaine says to him when they exit the council chambers on Tython. "I--I don't know how to--"

Kurt adjusts his hood around his neck and stops, nodding to a passing trainer and guiding Blaine through the crowd to the shuttle bay where Kurt's ship is docked. A maintenance droid chirps the usual confirmations about the ship being ready and cleared for take off. He waits until they're safely inside the slightly cramped, slightly run-down ship before answering.

"I won't pretend that I wasn't concerned they might reject you because of your age," Kurt says, trying to sound gentle. He is aware that most of the time he just comes off as cool, and Blaine is nervous enough as it is. "But these are trying times; the Republic needs every able Jedi that it can find and train."

They've been traveling together for weeks; Kurt hasn't been training him, really, just giving him general background knowledge and occasionally allowing him to ask questions and receive answers. He hadn't been prepared for anything more. To that end, neither had Kurt; the last thing he'd expected from his mission on Nar Shaddaa had been to return with a battered, young, Force-sensitive sex slave in tow.

"I promise you, I won't disappoint. I'm ready, I've--I've dreamed of being able to use these abilities for something other than--" Blaine blushes, huddling deeper into his robes. "I'm just so thankful." He looks up at Kurt, wetting his lips. "M-master."

Kurt shivers, and looks away.

That is another worrying thing, and he's been trying to ignore it ever since he dragged Blaine half-naked and bruised from the back of a cantina and the clutches of some ridiculous gangster.

The soft looks. The way that his body is always twisting down and in and low, as if he can't help himself. How ever since he'd been granted the title of Padawan--not hours before--he's been calling Kurt master at every available opportunity.

It's...troubling.

Kurt has always found the chastity aspect of being a Jedi to be the easiest lesson. Early on he had known that his--proclivities would make normal life difficult, and it seemed only natural to go into the Order when his substantial skills in the Force manifested themselves. 

He's had Padawans before, he's even had a small crew under his command for longer missions, but never one like Blaine. Never one so close to his own age, never one so--innocent, despite the poor use that his body had been put to as a result of terrible circumstances.

It's the first time he wonders if perhaps Blaine had been recruited solely for this ability to--

To be the way he has been all afternoon, all let-me-assist-you smiles and the soft brush of eager, wanting fingertips along the edge of Kurt's hand. To be quiet and submissive and to please, in ways that powerful men might exploit, in ways that might encourage a more attentive lover to--

Kurt clears his throat and redirects his attention to the navigation console. "We'll have to share a bunk, I'm afraid; but if you'd like you can go settle down for a while. I can handle things out here while you get some privacy and rest."

Blaine hesitates--but he does nod, and then bows, showing the back of his neck in a way that's almost calculated.

"Y-yes, Master."

Kurt breathes again only when he's alone, his mind buzzing with inappropriate thoughts.

 

*

 

Being in the field allows Kurt to maintain the distance that he so desperately needs to keep Blaine at arm's length. Sharing quarters is not really the problem--he is a heavy sleeper, and he is able to ignore Blaine's nightmares and the way that he sometimes thrashes early in the morning. And because Blaine takes cues so easily, he keeps to himself unless prompted and takes to his training as naturally as any child that Kurt has had the pleasure of training.

The problem isn't necessarily Blaine's actions, though he does continue to stare and to allow his hands to reach out every now and then in ways that make Kurt uncomfortable.

The problem is that Kurt can't stop wondering. The marks on Blaine's body when he'd been found had been shocking, lines of bruises in the shape of belts and buckles and tentacles and hands. The way that Blaine seems transfixed by the healing of these marks, always touching his wrists and legs in awe. The way that he moans in his sleep, sometimes names, but for the most part--pleas. Begging. Whispers.

Please please I'll be good I'll be so good please touch me

Harder, harder, harder oh oh yes

So bad I've been so bad master I deserve this I deserve

And on and on, until Kurt can't help but feel his body react.

He spends more time meditating now than he ever has before, and tells himself that it's the right thing to do.

He simply has to get these things out of his mind. And for a while it works--they go undercover to rescue a Force sensitive child from an abusive family and it takes weeks to accomplish. They spend very little time together as Master and Padawan and that is just fine.

 

*

 

It's when they get back to the ship and begin to travel again that the issue arises for the second time.

It starts with Blaine asking, "Master, may I...ask you something?"

Kurt flips between one star chart and the next, then takes his hands off of the console. He'd meditated for an hour earlier, so he's feeling rather calm. It's as good a time as any to chat with Blaine.

"Of course."

"We've--we've been working together for months now. You haven't--I'm yours, now, but you don't seem interested in--"

Kurt feels a flutter of unease; that is about as dramatic as panic gets when you're a Jedi. "We--we've discussed this lesson, haven't we, my friend?" He clears his throat. "I am your teacher. And you are no longer a slave."

"You did mention, um, passion, that we do not--I just--I assumed that you said that to calm my initial fears, after--knowing the conditions in which--the place you found me." It's only then that Kurt realizes that Blaine is kneeling at his feet. This would be a perfectly normal place for a Padawan to be, but in this case--

"Never would I use you in such a fashion, Blaine. Never." The notion that part of their arrangement might be Blaine rendering him services is so repellent that he can't even begin to explain himself.

But then there are those beautiful clear brown eyes. The perfect sweep of his slicked back hair. The glow of his warm, brown skin. All of it presented to Kurt with such earnestness, such an eagerness to please, to be just the right thing that Kurt might want...

"Master," Blaine breathes, eyelids fluttering. He looks almost in pain, and Kurt's hands twitch with the desire to reach out and comfort him. "If you were to--I would not consider it a--"

"You struggle. Focus, Padawan." His constant pauses and verbal retreats are torture to Kurt, who prefers concise communication.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry," Blaine answers, centering himself. 

Kurt waits. It's something that he's very good at.

"Recently I've lost focus. At first I thought it was just this--lifestyle change. I am eternally grateful for it, of course, but in some ways this life is very different from what I had gotten used to. I--" He pauses, gathering himself together again. "My needs were always met before, though I didn't realize just how much a part of me they were until I had no--source of comfort." He swallows. His cheeks are glowing pink. "I wasn't always--unwilling, at the club on Nar Shaddaa. There were moments--there were many guests that--pleased me greatly."

Kurt refuses to allow their eye contact to be broken. He steels his back and inhales. "Are these needs biological or psychological?"

"Both, I believe," Blaine answers, looking so comfortable there on his knees. "I--I can't be sure of my lineage, of course, but--I'm certainly mixed, and so--not entirely like you, I suppose?"

"Balance through the Force may in time help you gain total control over these impulses," Kurt answers, struggling himself, though in silence. "It may be some time before you reach the level of control of a--"

Blaine's lips part and a soft, wanting noise spills past his lips. "Master."

He hesitates, for the first time. "Yes?"

"My training will be useless, at the rate at which I am losing control over myself," he answers, all in one breath. "I--I can't sleep, I can't focus, I find myself--"

"You toss and turn constantly, it is true," Kurt answers, unable to stop the words.

"You're so close," Blaine breathes into the suddenly tense silence between them. "You're so close, so strong, and I can't--I can't stop wanting--"

Kurt stands, suddenly, his robes falling around his legs. "Do not say these things."

"I'm only speaking the truth, Master." He looks like a kicked akk puppy, and Kurt feels terribly, but--

"You must learn to master your feelings, Blaine. That is the very first step to becoming a Jedi."

Blaine says nothing. His eyes are filled with tears. He looks down, and the wetness tracks across his cheeks. "I have failed you. I am--I am bad, I am horrible, I am not fit to be anyone's student, much less yours."

Something about the way he says it makes Kurt's body hurt, as if he has done some deep and terrible wrong to his Padawan.

"No," Kurt says, though he maintains the distance between them. "No, Blaine, no. You are struggling, but you are--being honest, and I'm not making it easy on you. I'm trying to teach you, but it seems we are speaking different languages, and yours is one that I do not understand."

"Punish me," Blaine breathes, staring up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Punish me. Please. I deserve it."

Please please do it please do it need it need you so badly please make it hurt

Kurt inhales sharply. "Padawan, control yourself. Think about what you're asking me to do. I cannot, I will not--"

He flees the navigation room, feeling every inch a failure of a teacher.

 

*

 

It takes him hours to approach their sleeping quarters, and when he does he's not surprised to find Blaine kneeling beside his bed. In the beginning he had found Blaine crouched on the unforgiving metal floor slats more often than he'd found him in his bed at night.

He'd assumed that Blaine had been meditating; now he's not so sure.

Tonight Blaine has pulled the coarse brown robe and tunic off of his body and he's kneeling stripped to the waist, hands in his lap and forehead bent forward against the bed pad, elbows hugged tightly to his body. He's breathing as if he'd just run a race, and every third breath or so his shoulders shudder with some invisible, painful force.

"What--what do you need me to do?" Kurt asks.

Blaine's whole body convulses, but he doesn't look up or turn around. "Tell me why I've been bad."

"You've ignored your training. You've been difficult. You haven't taken my advice about meditation, or self-denial."

Each sentence seems to lash across Blaine's skin, driving him deeper into a huddle. 

It's only then that Kurt notices the nerf hide belt coiled on Blaine's bed. 

"Please," Blaine whispers. "Please, use it."

Kurt stares at the scarred, wide expanse of Blaine's brown back, and shudders. What bothers him, what truly bothers him, is that--the idea of picking up that belt and using it on Blaine's body excites him. It shouldn't, but it does.

"Why do you desire this?" he asks, lifting the supple, long belt, passing it through his fingers to test its give. 

"I need it," Blaine replies, voice threadbare with desperation. "Please, Master. Please punish me."

"How many--"

"Ten, at the very least."

He feels strangely emotionless as he folds the leather into a safe loop, though his pulse is running faster than it usually does. All of his previous hesitation melts away at the sight in front him; his Padawan, submissive and hungry on his knees, needing something that only he is in the position to provide. 

It makes him feel powerful and wanted and--he should not entertain these emotions.

This thought doesn't stop him from bringing the belt down across Blaine's back.

Blaine sobs at the first lash, rocking forward. "One," he breathes raggedly.

Oh.

"I expect better from you in the future, Blaine," he says, softly, and brings the belt down again. 

The crack makes his body tense.

"Two. Yes. Yes, Master. Please forgive me."

"We must trust one another if we're going to learn from one another. You must try harder."

"Three. Master, yes."

With each stroke, he speaks words, commands, corrections, entreaties, not knowing whether they are entirely truthful, but knowing that Blaine needs to hear them as much as Kurt needs to speak; the silence and the crack of the belt across Blaine's back is too much on its own. 

The rise of rectangular shaped welts on Blaine's already marred skin makes something hot and degraded spill inside of Kurt's belly.

By ten, Blaine is barely able to count and his body is shaking visibly.

When Kurt lowers the belt, he walks around Blaine and lowers a hand to Blaine's sweaty curls, pushing them off of his forehead and forcing his head up.

Blaine's face is a wash of tears, flushed skin, and a wide open wanting combined with a gratitude so fierce that it takes Kurt's breath away. His shoulders and chest are covered in goose flesh and sweat, and the front of his breeches is soaked with release.

Kurt bites his lip to stop the whimper that rises at the sight.

"It is done, then?" he asks.

Blaine nods.

"Let me get you some kolto spray for the welts."

"N-not right away. Before I sleep, but--for now I'm--content with it."

Kurt nods. He tries to make his expression passive, but it's difficult to do with Blaine staring up at him as if the entire known galaxy hinges upon his word.

"You did--well. All is forgiven."

Blaine slumps forward weakly, as if those words were all he had been waiting for.

 

*

 

Kurt spends more time at the nav con than ever before, mostly because his ability to sleep has been greatly compromised. Blaine is quieter now, but at night he twists and makes noises that are a torment to Kurt's troubled, scattered mind.

Kurt's body has betrayed him on many an occasion now, and there seems to be no solution for it. He's disappointed in himself, and concerned that he will not be able to teach Blaine how to be a Jedi if he himself has lost his grip on the teachings so easily.

He slumps back into the captain's chair, listening to the burr whiz beep of the equipment around him and the astromech droid one compartment over doing calibrations.

How easy all of this was before Blaine introduced need into Kurt's life again. How easy to not be responsible for someone who craves all of the time, in ways that they have no control over.

He's lost track of how long he's gone without sleep, and so he gives over to the exhaustion, finally, and makes his way to their sleeping chamber. Blaine seems to be resting easily. Kurt disrobes and climbs into bed.

"Master?" Blaine breathes into the darkness, moments later.

"Yes?"

"Oh. I just--I wasn't sure if I'd heard you come in."

He rolls over onto his belly, glancing in Blaine's general direction. "How are you feeling?"

"Passable," Blaine answers, sounding only slightly agitated. That is a good sign.

"Sleep well," Kurt adds.

 

*

 

But as the nights pass the quality of this arrangement degrades, and on the fifth night after that conversation Kurt finds himself awake after a shockingly erotic dream. He's--manifesting physical symptoms, and finds himself rubbing down against his bed pad before he can force himself to stop and breathe and focus.

"Master?"

"Disturbing dream," Kurt sighs.

"I--I can sense that."

"Can you?" he asks, curious. That might be a valuable talent.

Blaine sits up on the edge of his bed, touching the light panel beside it to bring his half of the room into illumination. His eyes shyly drift across Kurt's shadowed bed space. "You are--agitated."

"Padawan."

"I cannot help but sense it," he replies. "I--it's almost a physical sensation, reaching out to touch me. Taunt me. I can almost--smell it."

"Blaine," Kurt says, frowning. "Do you--do you need me to punish you again?"

Blaine frowns, biting his lower lip. "I've been good. Better."

"You have," Kurt replies. It's he who has been failing Blaine as of late.

"Then punishment isn't necessary." He tilts his head, and Kurt's eyes follow the play of light and shadow down along Blaine's body. He's wearing a tunic that reaches his knees but nothing else; his strong, muscled legs glow under the artificial light.

Kurt swallows thickly. It is so easy to imagine pressing Blaine back into his bed pad and pushing that rough cloth up around his waist. So easy to imagine the way that his legs would spread, soft and slow but eagerly, inviting Kurt to come closer, to press higher--

What is wrong with him? Why can't he stop wanting these things?

Why must Blaine look so young and willing, blurred softness and warm invitation in his wide eyes?

Blaine stands and crosses over to his side of the chamber, lips sucked inward nervously.

"You torment yourself so," he says, kneeling on the bed pad beside Kurt. The tunic bunches up around his legs and Kurt stares, inexorably drawn.

"We mustn't," Kurt breathes. Blaine is too close. They are too close.

"You can have what you want," Blaine whispers, leaning into him, allowing his nose to brush the soft hairs just behind Kurt's ear. "You are my Master." The heat and solidity of his body is a torment to Kurt's starved, aching flesh.

"I'm--I am not--you are not a slave any longer, Blaine--"

"And yet you are my Master still," he replies, drawing his lips softly over Kurt's jaw. He's trembling, and Kurt can feel it. "My body aches for you. I would do anything for a touch, a simple touch, anything you wanted to give me." He redirects, kissing along Kurt's neck, slow and deliberate. "Anything you wanted. Anything my body could do--you'd only have to ask."

"Padawan," Kurt sighs, broken and teetering. He's about to snap; he can feel it like a live wire beneath his skin, sizzling and twisting. An unstoppable hungry ache is swelling within.

"I am--already ready for you. My--we'd need nothing, my body produces--"

"Stop," Kurt cries, grabbing Blaine by the arms and squeezing. "For the love of all we hold dear, stop. Please, please, stop."

"Take me," Blaine whispers, surging forward. "Use me."

"I respect you too much--"

"I need you. I need you so badly."

"Blaine. Blaine."

His hold falters, and Blaine rushes into his lap, pushing him down onto the bed. Kurt barely has time to breathe before Blaine is straddling him, and beneath the tunic he isn't wearing anything.

"Oh," Kurt whimpers, as Blaine's warm, soft skin spreads over him, his eager body writhing down into Kurt's.

"May I? Please? I will make it so good for you--"

There is only so much he can take. 

"Yes," Kurt groans, gripping Blaine's hips. "Yes, yes, yes."

"Oh--" Blaine gasps, fumbling between them, undoing the tie that holds Kurt's breeches closed and pushing them down, just a few inches, just enough to allow his flesh to spring proudly free, and without a moment's hesitation he aligns their bodies.

The space between his legs is no different than Kurt's, but his entrance is soft and dripping a slippery fluid that Kurt's has never produced. He's--he's already open and wet.

"Blaine," Kurt cries. "Blaine--"

He lowers himself down onto Kurt's member, just on the dangerous side of too soon, too fast, one hand folding around his own erection and the other gripping Kurt's torso. "Master. Oh, Master, yes. Yes, don't hold back, don't--I am ready for you, I am--"

Kurt snaps his hips up, unable to stop. Blaine is like a hot, wet fist around him; never has he felt such pleasure. He cries out when Blaine begins to move, long hard unforgiving sweeps of his sweet, muscled pelvis. The bed cannot shake, and so the bed pad shifts wildly on its foundations instead.

"You are so perfect," Blaine sighs, riding him blindly, rising and falling and pushing him in and out and out and in again, grinding around him. "Oh so perfect inside of me, so hard."

Lost. So very, very lost, as Kurt pushes the tunic higher around Blaine's waist so that he can watch, so that he can replace Blaine's hand with his own, can feel the hot, silky surge of Blaine's member in his hand. He has craved the hard pulse of male flesh so many times over the course of his chaste life and now that he has it for the very first time, he can't think.

"Beautiful," he sighs.

"Oh," Blaine whimpers. "Tell me that I please you. Yes, please, tell me."

"You--you please me, Blaine. So well. So good for me, so tight around me--" He blushes, voice faltering.

"Master," Blaine cries, and he twitches in Kurt's hand and spends, shooting spurt after spurt of oddly clear fluid, soaking Kurt's tunic to the collar. "Oh Master yes."

He repeats this three times more, so much wet splatter, before Kurt loses the ability to continue; he rolls their bodies over, by what inspiration he isn't sure, spreading Blaine's thighs and pushing deeply into him again, and again, and again. The leverage of his weight bringing him hard and fast between Blaine's legs makes it all the sweeter.

"Yes. Yes, yes, please--take what you like, take me harder--" Blaine's legs wrap around his waist.

Kurt feels lost and somewhat pathetic as he buries his face in Blaine's sweaty throat and spills inside of him with a jerk and a cry. It's too much, all too much.

For just the briefest second, Blaine's skin glows, and a blissful expression steels across his face. "Perfect," he sighs, shaking.

Kurt would find that fascinating if he weren't so utterly spent.

"Blaine," he breathes, holding him close. He feels that if he lets go he'll tremble apart at the seams.

"Did I--did I please, Master?"

"Yes, of course, of co--yes, Blaine, always."

And Blaine smiles against his lips and kisses him for the first time.


End file.
